Imprint
by JAshipNOW
Summary: General Kenobi enters the Twilight Zone
1. Prologue

Title: Imprint  
Author: Ginny Powell  
Rating: R, for violence (maybe only PG-13)  
Setting: Hard to say. You'll see why.  
Archive: Sure, just tell me.  
Feedback: Of course! wmginnypowell@yahoo.com  
Also available at my website: http://www.geocities.com/wmginnypowell/swtpm.html  
Disclaimer: I don't own the ones you know, and who would want the rest?  
  
Summary: Obi-Wan enters the Twilight Zone  
  
Prologue  
  
General Obi-Wan Kenobi woke up feeling great. Which was strange; usually the   
aches and pains of much-used muscles and joints were at their worst first thing   
in the morning. Nothing a good stretch and a little exercise wouldn't relieve.   
But that wouldn't be necessary today. With a gleeful smile, Obi-Wan sat up,   
reveling in the litheness of his back, and reached for the wall panel beside his   
bed to turn on the lights.  
  
Only it wasn't there.  
  
Suddenly cautious, Obi-Wan let his hand slowly travel over the wall as far as he   
could reach. It felt like stone, cool and slightly rough to the touch.   
Completely unlike the plascrete of his Temple quarters. And now that he thought   
of it, the bed coverings felt unusually heavy. It all added up to one   
conclusion.  
  
He was not where he was supposed to be.  
  
Hesitant to move lest he set off some sort of alarm before he was ready to   
defend himself, he became very still. Closing his eyes, oblivious to the fact   
that it was already pitch black in the room, he let his mind settle into that   
gentle rhythm that was the Force, becoming one with it.  
  
But it was not there. He could detect no Force signatures, feel no presences,   
good or ill. It was as though a limb had been ripped from his body, the sense   
of loss at the realization was so great. His eyes flew open to stare wildly and   
uselessly about the room. For perhaps the first time in his life, Obi-Wan   
Kenobi felt real fear.  
  
Something was very, very wrong. 


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1  
  
The paralysis of fear passed quickly. Obi-Wan Kenobi was not a Jedi Knight for   
nothing. Within moments, his courage and sense of self-preservation had   
reasserted itself, and he was rising stealthily from the strange bed and inching   
his way across the dark room. He hadn't gone far before he realized he was   
nude. With a few deft movements, he took a sheet from the bed and formed a   
brief but effective covering before resuming his forward motion.  
  
At least he hoped it was forward. So dark was it in the room, and without the   
Force to augment his senses, he had no real idea what the shape or size of the   
room might be, or where a door might be found. The sensible thing to do seemed   
to be to work his way around the perimeter, starting at the wall by the bed. He   
moved along slowly, one hand trailing the cool stone, the other held before him   
to, hopefully, intercept any impediments to his progress.  
  
It wasn't long before he found one.   
  
"Ow!" came his inadvertent exclamation as his toe collided with something solid,   
which upon careful exploration proved to be a low table. Edging around the   
piece of furniture, cursing it silently, Obi-Wan continued on his way.  
  
The room proved to be a square, perhaps four meters to a side, the only   
furnishings the bed, table, and a stuffed chair. There were three wall hangings   
of some kind, in frames, but in the dark is was impossible to tell what they   
might show. There was one door, a heavy wooden affair with no knob or other   
obvious means of opening it, distinguishable from the wall only by the change in   
material. Obi-Wan had passed it by in hopes of discovering some other exit, but   
now, having found none, he returned to it, determined to win his way out of this   
strange predicament.  
  
Just as he reached it, it opened, white light pouring in around its edges. Obi-  
Wan jumped back, assuming a defensive posture, one arm thrown up to shield his   
eyes from the sudden brightness. Then a figure blocked the light, and he peered   
around his forearm.  
  
"Good morning, Obi-Wan," the figure said, in a feminine voice. Obi-Wan blinked,   
willing his pupils to contract, and was able to make out a petite woman with   
flowing black hair. She was beautiful, though there was something elusively   
unsettling about her eyes. Obi-Wan had never seen her before.  
  
"Who are you? Why have you brought me here?" Obi-Wan demanded, drawing himself   
to his full height, such as it was, and giving her his best Jedi stare. He kept   
his weight on his toes, though, and an eye on the door. As nonthreatening as   
she seemed, it wouldn't do to underestimate his captors.  
  
The woman sighed. "Always the same questions. You would think one of you would   
have some imagination. But no matter. All your questions will be answered in   
time. For now, there is someone else who would like to speak to you." And she   
turned and gestured through the open door.  
  
Obi-Wan leaned forward, prepared for whatever might come through that door.  
  
Or at least he thought he was. But he found himself stumbling back in horror as   
Master Qui-Gon Jinn stepped into the room. 


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
"What manner of deceit is this?" Obi-Wan demanded of the woman, turning away   
from the specter of his dead Master. That the imposter was holding a tray of   
food like a servant only added insult to the injury this spectacle was no doubt   
intended to cause.  
  
"You are not happy to see your Master, Padawan?" the woman asked teasingly.  
  
That demotion of his hard-earned rank was more than Obi-Wan could stand at the   
moment. He lunged at her. "You will release me from this charade at once, or   
I'll-"  
  
"Obi-Wan!"  
  
The sound of his Master's reprimand reached out and stopped Obi-Wan in his   
tracks like a hand reaching across the years.  
  
"Center yourself, Padawan," Qui-Gon demanded authoritatively, as Obi-Wan turned   
wide eyes to him. "Your anger gains us nothing. Besides, you cannot hurt   
Cynara."  
  
Obi-Wan just stared at this intruder whose words were so eerily like his   
Master's well-remembered voice. And oft-recorded voice, Obi-Wan told himself.   
Easy to fake. "We'll just see about that," he retorted, breaking out of his   
momentary trance to resume his attack. His hands lashed out in a lightning-fast   
move that should have rendered the woman immediately unconscious.  
  
Instead, they passed right through her, and Obi-Wan, caught off balance, found   
himself stumbling over a mobile holographic projector. He turned back in time   
to see the flickering image coalesce once more into the seemingly solid form of   
Cynara. She laughed, an annoyingly superior sound.  
  
"My, but you are going to be even more fun than I imagined. Well, I'll leave   
you two to get reacquainted. 'Bye for now." And the image shrank to a line of   
golden light and winked out. Obi-Wan stood, dumbfounded, watching the mobile   
projector roll slowly out the door.  
  
"Shall we have some breakfast, then?" Qui-Gon asked, as though nothing had   
happened. He stepped to the low table and set down the tray he carried.  
  
"You're not real," Obi-Wan said, though why he was speaking to something unreal   
he did not know. "And I'm leaving."  
  
But before he could get out the door, he was stopped by a very solid hand on his   
shoulder.  
  
"I'm not a hologram, if that's what you mean," Qui-Gon said when his Padawan   
turned to him.  
  
"Master…?" Obi-Wan stared at the man, his desire to believe in the unbelievable   
warring with his practical nature.  
  
"And, I'm relieved to find, neither are you," the man who looked like Qui-Gon   
continued.  
  
"Neither am-" There was something going on here, but Obi-Wan could not seem to   
make sense of it.  
  
"But I'm not exactly real, either." And before Obi-Wan could stop him, Qui-Gon   
took a finger of one hand and gouged the other wrist, deeply. Then he held the   
bleeding gash up for his Padawan's inspection. Obi-Wan, beyond shock at this   
point, dutifully inspected the wound.  
  
Underneath the dangling flap of skin was a mass of wires and the glitter of   
metal. 


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
  
"You- You're a droid?" Obi-Wan asked incredulously, marveling at the feat of   
engineering before him. He looked his Master up and down, but could detect   
nothing that would indicate he was anything other than Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn.   
Well, aside from the robotic parts showing through that gash in his arm.  
  
"It certainly looks that way," Qui-Gon answered, his warm yet dispassionate tone   
just right, his eyes crinkling up in thought just as they always had. "And yet,   
I feel just like…well, like myself. I remember going to sleep in my quarters in   
the Temple, and then I woke up here. Like this." He gestured with the gashed   
wrist, which had at least stopped bleeding.  
  
"But that's amazing!" Obi-Wan walked around the droid, giving it another   
careful inspection. It's hair looked real, and exactly the right length and   
color. Well, perhaps there was a touch less silver than he remembered. It wore   
the robes of a Jedi, complete but for a light saber at the belt. It even put   
its hands on its hips and looked at Obi-Wan with one slightly raised eyebrow,   
just like Qui-Gon might have done. "Oh. Sorry, Master," Obi-Wan apologized   
under that gaze, just as if he was a Padawan again, as he always would be to   
this man, or at least the original of this man, before him. "But I've never   
seen workmanship like this before. The appearance is perfect. And you have all   
of Qui-Gon's – I mean, your thoughts, memories?"  
  
"Yes. I know everything, remember everything, every day of my life, right up to   
the day we got back from our last mission. It was late, and I went right to   
bed, as did you. And woke up here. They must have gotten us both."  
  
"Wait a minute. What mission?"  
  
"To Timbuska. The coronation dispute," Qui-Gon answered, with a slightly amused   
expression. "I know you found it somewhat boring, but you can't have forgotten   
it completely. It was only a month ago."  
  
Obi-Wan's eyes grew big. "Oh. Of course, you couldn't know. You must have   
been…before…"  
  
"What are you muttering about?"  
  
"Um, well, I…" Obi-Wan rubbed his chin, wondering how to explain. Then he   
realized how pointless it was to concern himself with the feelings of a droid,   
and spit it out. "Timbuska wasn't a month ago, it was ten years ago. That was   
our last mission before…before you died."  
  
"I died."  
  
"Yes, battling a Sith."  
  
"The Sith are extinct."  
  
"That's what the Council thought, too."  
  
Qui-Gon looked at his Padawan for a long moment. Obi-Wan's humor had always   
been subtle and dry, and occasionally inopportunely timed, but now he did not   
detect a hint of fabrication. "Perhaps you should tell me everything. Over   
breakfast?" He gestured to the tray that sat waiting on the low table. Obi-Wan   
nodded.  
  
And so they ate, sitting on pillows around the table. Qui-Gon explained that,   
while he apparently did not require food to survive, he did have a sense of   
taste and still was able to enjoy eating. Obi-Wan told him the story of their   
last mission together.  
  
"And so I became a Knight, and Anakin my Padawan," Obi-Wan was concluding the   
first chapter of his tale.  
  
"Then why do you still wear the braid?" Qui-Gon inquired.  
  
"I don't." But as he said it, Obi-Wan's hand went instinctively to his right   
ear, expecting to find the style he wore as a General, his hair all one length   
of several centimeters. Instead he found the once familiar plaited lock hanging   
onto his shoulder, the hair around it cropped short. "What the-" One of the   
framed pieces on the wall had proved to be a mirror, and now, as quickly as he   
could, Obi-Wan sprang up from the cushion and hurried to it.  
  
His jaw fell open at the image reflected back at him. He was young again. A   
boy, his Master's Padawan. An innocent, from his current perspective, the   
weight of the universe not yet showing on his shoulders or face. Qui-Gon came   
up behind him and set a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"You look just as I remember you. I feared I would never see you again, my   
Padawan."  
  
"But, I'm supposed to be ten years older," Obi-Wan protested to his own   
reflection. "How could this be? Unless…" He looked down at his body, still   
nude but for the sheet. His eyes fell upon his own wrist. Though the idea   
revolted him, he steeled himself. Bringing a finger up to the smooth skin of   
his wrist, he dug in.  
  
Pain shot up his arm. His skin resisted. Every part of him screamed out in   
protest. But he had to know. So, ignoring the pain, grimacing, he dug in   
deeper, as deep as he could go. And when at last he peeled back the stinging,   
bleeding skin, it revealed a mass of wires and the glitter of metal. 


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
  
"No," Obi-Wan whispered, stumbling back from the mirror to sit down heavily on   
the bed, his eyes never leaving the streaming wound on his arm. "No, I can't   
be. I know who I am. And I'm not…"  
  
"I understand," Qui-Gon said as he sat down beside his Padawan. "I went through   
the same thing when I first found out."  
  
"And how did you…find out?"  
  
"During my first escape attempt."  
  
"Your first?"  
  
"Of many," Qui-Gon replied with a self-deprecating grin. "I have not been the   
most admirable representative of our Order this past month, Obi-Wan. Without   
the Force to guide me, I have lost control of my emotions. I have felt anger,   
fear, even defeat."  
  
Obi-Wan blinked, his mind unable to comprehend his Master being driven to such   
extremes. "Without the Force," he seized on the phrase, though it sent a shiver   
down his spine just to think of it.  
  
"We are droids, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon put in. "We have no midichlorians. The Force   
is still there, we simply cannot detect it. But we should not use that as an   
excuse. We are simply now as most sentient beings in the universe are."  
  
"And even with that…handicap, you have continued to try to escape, to fight. To   
live. That is the important thing."  
  
"Now you sound like the Master," Qui-Gon observed, a note of pride in his voice.  
  
"I have only you to thank for that, Master; you taught me well."  
  
They each took a moment to simply bask in the presence of the other, before Obi-  
Wan spoke up again.  
  
"Now that I am here, perhaps the two of us will be more successful in escaping."  
  
"That is what I have been hoping since Cynara first told me you were ready,"   
Qui-Gon replied. "But I must warn you." He looked suddenly even more serious   
than usual. "Cynara is evil. She has punished me most severely for each of my   
escape attempts. And, as you know, we can feel pain." Each looked down at his   
injured wrist. Qui-Gon's was now little more than an angry red U-shaped line.  
  
"At least we heal quickly," Obi-Wan said, looking on the bright side. If his   
Master was attempting to scare him or give him a way out, he needn't waste his   
breath. Qui-Gon smiled his understanding. "All right then. Tell me everything   
you know." 


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
  
Qui-Gon explained that they were in an extensive compound, almost as large as   
the Temple. The inhabitants appeared to be all droids like themselves. Cynara   
herself did not live there, appearing only as a hologram, which she could do at   
nearly any time or place, allowing for little privacy. He had not been able to   
gather much about what lay outside the compound they found themselves in, but   
Cynara had been more than happy to gloat about what she called her "toys".  
  
The process of creating droid duplicates seemed to consist of two parts. The   
manufacture of the body of the droid required three-dimensional measurements of   
the subject, which could be easily obtained from any holophoto or transmission.   
The second part, the programming of the droid, required an imprint of the brain   
patterns of the subject. The technology required to take such an imprint was   
something of a mystery. Cynara seemed to be hiring out that part of the   
operation.  
  
"But to what purpose?" Obi-Wan asked when Qui-Gon had conveyed all his   
knowledge. "Why does she want a bunch of droid duplicates hanging around?"  
  
"She's a collector," Qui-Gon answered simply. When Obi-Wan continued to look at   
him as though his answer was not sufficient, he elaborated. "She collects   
various things, as you will see when you explore the rest of the compound.   
Paintings, jewels, musical instruments. And people."  
  
"You mean she's done this to us as some sort of…hobby?"  
  
"I do not mean to make it sound too prosaic. We may not be just pieces in her   
collection to be ogled. Some of the others that are here seem to have been   
duplicated so that she could exact revenge. Our ability to heal quickly may be   
a double-edged sword."  
  
Obi-Wan took a minute to digest that. "So which are we?" he asked eventually.   
"Are we to be ogled, or tortured?"  
  
"I'm not sure. And I don't intend to stick around long enough to find out."  
  
"Agreed. Why don't you show me around now."  
  
Qui-Gon glanced down at his Padawan. "I think you should get dressed first.   
Here." And he reached down under the bed and pulled out a drawer. Inside were   
several sets of Jedi robes, exactly what he would have worn about the Temple as   
a Padawan. Cynara seemed to have thought of everything.  
  
Once Obi-Wan was dressed, the two Jedi toured the building.  
  
Outside the small room in which Obi-Wan had awakened was a great room. A really   
great room, soaring for several stories, up to a huge dome of skylights. Obi-  
Wan stood taking it in, leaning on the railing that kept him from falling the   
several stories down to the bottom of the atrium. The railing stretched to his   
left and right, as did a series of identical doors.  
  
"Each one leads to a room exactly like yours," Qui-Gon explained. "That one is   
mine." He pointed to the next door on the right.  
  
"Then there are hundreds…thousands of us."  
  
"I have not made an accurate count, nor do I know how many rooms are vacant.   
But yes, I believe there may be thousands," Qui-Gon agreed.  
  
"Where are they all?" Obi-Wan could see only a scattering of figures far below.  
  
"Elsewhere in the complex. This is only the central chamber. Come."  
  
And so Qui-Gon led his Padawan to the elevator and down to the great room floor,   
and thence to several wings of the building. There was an artistic wing, where   
many beings created works in various media. The library held bank after bank of   
terminals where some sat reading, some writing, some lounging on couches,   
datapad in hand. Several gardens flourished under glass; a series of gymnasia   
provided all manner of equipment for any sport or exercise. And it went on and   
on, every conceivable desire of the inhabitants provided for. Except freedom.  
  
"Why does everyone seem so calm?" Obi-Wan asked when, the tour complete, Qui-Gon   
led the way to a bench where they could watch a group of beings playing a game   
involving a large sphere. "Why is there no underlying sense of rebellion?   
Surely in such numbers we could overpower whatever security Cynara has in   
place."  
  
"Perhaps, if they could be organized," Qui-Gon answered, nodding. "But the   
situation is complicated. Many of the people here do not realize what has been   
done to them. Some refuse to believe it, even when told. A number seem to be   
genuinely content; I am never sure if I should envy them or pity them. And then   
there is a majority that lives in fear."  
  
"Of Cynara." The tone of his voice showed that he was not about to join the   
majority.  
  
"I have seen what she is capable of, Padawan. She is not to be taken lightly."  
  
"Then it is just the two of us."  
  
"Yes. Though once we are out, we will be in a better position to end this   
atrocity."  
  
"Always plotting to escape," Cynara's voice startled the two men. They turned   
to find her walking toward them, for all the world a normal, solid woman.   
"Really, Qui-Gon, don't you like my company?" And she sat weightlessly in the   
older man's lap. Qui-Gon stared straight ahead, his face passive.  
  
Obi-Wan, noticing that there was no mobile projector this time, peered around   
until he found tiny projectors embedded in the wall and a nearby column. Now   
that he thought about it, he had seen the devices all over the complex.  
  
"I so hoped that you would be happy here if I got you a friend," Cynara was   
saying, smiling seductively at Obi-Wan, her arms around Qui-Gon's neck. Then   
her expression changed to something darker. "I do hope you don't turn out to be   
more trouble than you're worth." Apparently tired of Qui-Gon's passivity,   
Cynara shifted to sit between the two men. A ghostly hand alighted on Obi-Wan's   
thigh, began to travel up his torso. "He warned me, you know. Said either one   
of you would make a brilliant addition to my collection. But no, I had to have   
the set." Her hand faux-caressed Obi-Wan's cheek. "Don't make me regret my   
decision." And with a flicker, she was gone.  
  
Obi-Wan found himself releasing a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.   
Which made him wonder why he was breathing at all. Cynara had apparently made   
every effort to create lifelike duplicates.  
  
"There has to be a way out of here," Obi-Wan whispered, his fists clenching in   
determination. "Perhaps the-"  
  
"No, don't say it," Qui-Gon interrupted, holding up a hand. "As you have seen,   
she may be listening, watching. As all my attempts have failed, I leave it to   
you. Plan as you will, and when you are ready, give me a sign."  
  
"But, how will I know if I am simply repeating your mistakes?"  
  
"You won't. But that does not matter," Qui-Gon dismissed his Padawan's   
concerns. "She may not suspect that I would try the same route again. And   
besides, it will be different this time." He put an encouraging hand on Obi-  
Wan's arm. "For we will be together." 


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6  
  
Two days later, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were sparring with metal swords in one of   
the gymnasia. There were no light sabers, of course, so they had settled on the   
closest alternative to keep their skills up. It had been a somewhat humiliating   
experience. The first day, Obi-Wan had tried a particularly difficult move, one   
that he had successfully performed countless times in practice and in battle,   
but this time he fell flat on his back. He had been moving to the rhythm of the   
fight, feeling instead of thinking, and launched himself into the air before   
reaching out, as usual, for that extra bit of Force augmentation, only to find   
that hollow place within him where the Force should be. It was a feeling that   
was becoming all too familiar, that shock of rediscovery of his disjointedness,   
his lack of connection to the Force. He had never realized, before, how often   
he reached for it, used it like a security blanket, until it was gone. He   
wondered if he would always feel the loss so acutely. And how all those   
pathetic life-forms who had never known the feel of the Force could stand it.  
  
It didn't help that Cynara seemed to show up whenever he found himself in just   
such a compromising position.  
  
But his personal pain was of no consequence. There were more important things   
to worry about now. And so he concentrated on learning to fight without   
augmentation, on focusing his energies on something he could actually control.  
  
On escape.  
  
Obi-Wan had no desire to spend any longer than necessary in this place of   
horrors, but as he was quite aware that he might have but one chance to escape,   
he wanted to make it a successful one. So over the past days he had thought,   
and planned, and explored, and changed his plans, all in the privacy of his own   
mind. And now he was almost ready.  
  
They were going through a series of standard thrusts and parries at something   
like half speed as they each relearned how to fight this new way. But now Obi-  
Wan went on the attack, showering blows upon his Master furiously. Qui-Gon,   
suddenly on the defensive, shot his Padawan a questioning look. Obi-Wan   
answered with what he hoped was a significant stare and had to wait a long,   
heart-stopping moment before he saw understanding flare in Qui-Gon's eyes. With   
a sigh of relief, Obi-Wan added another series of blows, and then launched   
himself into the air.  
  
Only to fall, predictably, on his face.  
  
Also predictably, Cynara appeared, laughing.  
  
"Ah, no matter how many times I see it, that never fails to amuse me," she said   
gaily, clapping her hands. "I'll wait, if you're planning on doing it again."  
  
Obi-Wan, feigning irritation without much difficulty, picked himself up off the   
floor with the help of Qui-Gon's offered hand. Then the two stood looking past   
Cynara, making it obvious that they would not fight for her enjoyment.  
  
"Oh, be that way, then," Cynara declared petulantly. "There must be something   
interesting going on somewhere else." And she winked out.  
  
"Shall we get something to eat?" Obi-Wan asked as they approached the equipment   
bins to put their swords away. Only Obi-Wan instead casually slipped his into   
the belt of his tunic, where it was concealed by his robe.  
  
"All right," Qui-Gon went along with whatever his Padawan was planning.  
  
They headed for the kitchens, which were just beside the gymnasium; that was why   
Obi-Wan had insisted on that site for their sparring. He had also established a   
pattern of regular meals, more out of habit than anything else, and it was now   
time for the midday one. While food was made available throughout the complex   
at intervals, Obi-Wan seemed to prefer to choose his own time, and to go right   
to the kitchens rather than request food be sent to him.  
  
In the kitchen, there were a few other beings milling about. Obi-Wan and Qui-  
Gon took their time deciding what to eat. By the time they had started their   
meal, the last of the others had headed out the door.  
  
As soon as the coast was clear, Obi-Wan jumped into action. 


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7  
  
On one end of the kitchen there were two apertures: one for deliveries, and one   
for outgoing garbage. They were, as far as he could determine, the only two   
ways out of the building. He had decided against the garbage chute for obvious   
reasons.  
  
The delivery chute emptied onto a conveyor belt on which stood several unopened   
boxes. Obi-Wan hoped that that meant the last delivery had been recent.   
Deliveries were, unfortunately, not on a regular schedule, so they would just   
have to take their chances. Now he jumped up onto the conveyor, stepped around   
the boxes, and got his first close look at the aperture. Qui-Gon stood   
nonchalantly by, munching a cracker, in what he hoped was the best place for   
blocking any view Cynara might have of what was happening.  
  
Obi-Wan crouched behind a box and peered through the bars of the delivery door   
at the conveyor which continued up and away. He'd seen deliveries come in twice   
before. The door had opened upwards and into the room automatically just before   
the first box emerged. Which meant it was triggered somehow from outside. Or   
maybe… Obi-Wan allowed himself a smile as he found the simple pressure switch   
just beyond arm's reach through the chute. An incoming box would brush against   
it on its way down the conveyor, opening the door. All it needed was a little   
push. Slowly, he slipped the sword from his belt.  
  
Behind him, Qui-Gon heard the soft click, the quiet whine of the door opening,   
and was through it in one mighty dive, coming to rest beside his Padawan, one   
foot helping the grate to shut quietly.  
  
"So far so good," Obi-Wan whispered as they turned and began to crawl up the   
conveyor toward an unseen outside access port. The passageway was small,   
perhaps a meter square.  
  
"That's what I thought, when I tried this route on my third escape attempt,"   
Qui-Gon replied.  
  
Obi-Wan paused in his climb, his first thought to second-guess his choice of   
escape route. What other two ways had Qui-Gon tried first, deeming them more   
worthy? What had he missed? Then he realized that there was a more important   
issue at hand.  
  
"And then what happened?" he turned to ask his Master. Before Qui-Gon could   
answer, there came a booming sound from above.  
  
"This," Qui-Gon answered, as they both looked up to see a line of boxes moving   
towards them, as the conveyor belt switched on. 


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8  
  
The ground moving underneath him, a box barreling down upon him, Obi-Wan looked   
about urgently for a hand-hold. Only the miniscule lip where two sheets of   
metal joined to make the wall of the passageway presented itself, and he dug the   
tips of his fingers into the sharp edge. But it wasn't enough. He was slipping   
inexorably back toward the kitchen. His escape plan had failed.  
  
Then he felt solid support against his back. Turning the little amount that he   
could, he saw that Qui-Gon had braced his feet on one side of the passageway,   
his back against the other, providing a platform for Obi-Wan to push against.   
That just left the boxes.  
  
The first box crumpled easily under Obi-Wan's blows. Paper products, he   
guessed. He climbed over it. Qui-Gon lifted his body and let it pass   
underneath.  
  
The second box resisted compression. When he cut it open with his sword, Obi-  
Wan found several cases of various fruits, which he spilled onto the conveyor   
and then crumpled the empty box.  
  
Thus it went, for box after box, Obi-Wan increasingly desperate, working with   
the knowledge that the evidence of their escape was now being carried back into   
the kitchen for anyone to see. What a waste after all the trouble he'd gone to   
to make sure Cynara wouldn't be watching them for a few minutes. When he   
scrambled over the last box and looked up to see clear sky, he breathed a well-  
earned sigh of relief.  
  
Then he was gasping in dismay as he watched the outer door slowly closing,   
shutting out the sky.  
  
Before he could make his tired body respond to this new crisis, something   
hurtled past him. It was Qui-Gon, throwing his body against the heavy door.  
  
"Hurry!" he called to his Padawan, strain heavy in his voice. Obi-Wan   
obediently scrambled against the tide of the conveyor to his Master's side.   
Wielding the sword he still held, he wedged it between the door and the wall,   
but it was obvious it wouldn't hold for long. "Jump!" the Master commanded.  
  
Confused, Obi-Wan looked around him for the first time. The outer opening was   
situated in a tower of sorts, sticking out from the building at an angle,   
designed to interface with cargo doors on delivery ships. They were at least   
four meters in the air. They'd jumped from higher perches many times. Without   
hesitation, Obi-Wan launched himself over the lip.  
  
That was when he remembered that he had never jumped so far without the Force, a   
point driven home to him as he landed heavily on the ground, an ankle twisting   
painfully beneath him. Above him, he heard the squeal of metal and a clank as   
the sword gave way and the door slammed shut, so he was quite relieved when Qui-  
Gon thumped to the ground beside him. From the look on his face, the Master was   
none too pleased with his landing, either, but still the two men shared a smile.   
They were outside. Helping each other to stand, they took off away from the   
building as fast as their injured legs would take them. 


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9  
  
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan struggled across the barren landscape they now found   
themselves in. The good news was there was no fence or other perimeter in   
evidence to further impede their escape. The bad news was there was nothing   
else in evidence, either. No city, no houses, no space port. Just grey rocks   
punctuating a muddy brown landscape for as far as the eye could see, which   
wasn't very far, as a dingy fog covered the land. That fog seemed to be made of   
dust and acid and something that smelled quite unpleasant, making it difficult   
to breathe. Obi-Wan reminded himself that he most likely didn't actually need   
to breathe, and cut his respiration rate dramatically. But without air, he   
couldn't talk. So they continued on in silence.  
  
After an unknown amount of time, when Obi-Wan was just beginning to wonder if   
they might circumnavigate the entire globe before finding anything or anyone of   
use, everything went black. Obi-Wan and his Master fell senseless to the muddy   
ground.  
  
"I told you the two of them would be trouble," Chancellor Palpatine said to his   
companion. He stood in a room deep inside Cynara's complex, the walls of which   
were covered with holoscreens. One screen showed the two Jedi droids lying in   
the mud. "You should have kept them apart, as I suggested."  
  
"Oh, but that was so exciting, don't you think?" Cynara replied, the sadistic   
amusement in her voice bringing a tiny smile to the Chancellor's lips. This was   
the real Cynara, a pale version of her holographic avatar. Her hair was   
streaked with white, her skin loose and wrinkled, her body frail, what little of   
it could be seen around the full-body support vehicle that was all that kept her   
alive. She sat before a control panel, one disfigured finger still hovering   
near the two off-switches she'd just thrown.  
  
"If nothing else, I suppose it's an excellent way to analyze your security   
measures," Palpatine replied dryly.  
  
Cynara laughed. He was enjoying their little game as much as she was. She   
turned back to the screen. "Wiping them and restarting with the original   
imprints will be simple. I just hope they haven't damaged themselves beyond   
repair. Those skin casings are so expensive."  
  
"Money is no object, as you know."  
  
"Yes, I know. It's one of the things I like most about you, Palpy." She   
giggled again when he flinched at the hated nickname. Then she got down to   
business. "I'll let you know what it will be. Another day or two of testing,   
and-"  
  
"No. I want them immediately. I will not take the chance of something like   
this happening again."  
  
"Whatever you say, boss," Cynara capitulated. "Have your fun with them. And if   
you ever tire of them…"  
  
"You'll be the first to know, my dear."  
  
Cynara's smile was only slightly marred by the false endearment. "Now, was   
there anything else? Anyone else you had in mind?"  
  
"As a matter of fact…"  
  
  
Epilogue  
  
General Obi-Wan Kenobi woke up feeling great. Which was strange… 


End file.
